


Recompense

by vanderlindeapologist (redwinehouse)



Category: Red Dead Redemption, Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Fix It Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 13:06:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17919341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redwinehouse/pseuds/vanderlindeapologist
Summary: Dutch wasn't going to let him die alone.





	Recompense

“I -” Dutch stepped back, the once proud orator rendered speechless as he watched the man writhe at his feet.

A mountain breeze passed across Arthur’s face. His jaw slackened and a dry rattle escaped his throat. The infection had slithered its way through his lungs and claimed its victim, making every breath hellfire.

Arthur Morgan was dying.

“Come on, Dutch,” – Micah weaseled his way forward – “let’s go, buddy. We made it! We won.”

He  _had_  won. Micah had seduced Dutch with his forked tongue, stroking his ego with empty promises and false loyalty. The Van der Linde Gang was nothing but a broken faction of aimless wanderers and gravestones. Arthur was only the last casualty, a legacy to a dead lineage.

At least John had gotten out…and little Jack…Abigail…

The gunshot made him jump.

Micah didn’t speak as a crimson flower bloomed in his chest. The outlaw looked down, pulling apart the lapels of his duster before throwing his head back in laughter.

“You son of a bitch,” he managed before his body crumpled to the ground.

Dutch twirled the pistol in his hand, slipping it back into its holster.

Arthur wanted to talk, but his breath had grown shallow. “What are ya’ doin’, Dutch?” He rolled over and coughed up a wad of blood. He looked up when a pair of boots rested by his head.

Hands that were once so sure stayed at Dutch’s side, hesitant as his fingers curled. His Adam’s apple bobbed, eyes raking over the dying man he had once called his son. Finally, he knelt down and slung Arthur’s arm over his shoulder.

“Come on, big boy.”

“Pinkertons.” Arthur’s body felt heavier as Dutch helped him walk towards the grassy outcrop. The flowers were swaying in the wind, but he could no longer feel the breeze on his face.

“‘The bravest are surely those who have the clearest vision of what is before them.’” Dutch set Arthur down. “I see now. No longer will I be a cog in another man’s machine.”

“Congratulations.”

“Shut up, Arthur. I’m apologizing.” The former gang leader flopped down next to him, pulling Arthur’s head onto his shoulder in an effort to clear his airway.

Arthur felt less in touch with the world, but the familiarity of the man who raised him gave him peace. Dutch was warm and he allowed himself to relax even if the edge of his vision was dimming.

“Do you remember the when we tried to rob The Brazen Bank?” Dutch was leaning back on his elbows, gazing at where the sky had just begun to turn a dusty pink.

The heist had been Arthur’s first and an absolute botch. Arthur struggled to cling to the memory of how fast his heart had been beating, standing behind Dutch with a shotgun in his hand.

“Five thousand dollars and we couldn’t goddamn lift it, a metaphor for American greed and fat cats.”

“Looked like a damned fool.” Arthur’s chest rattled with every inhale.

When he was young, he had been shot just a hair above his subclavian artery. Without an exit wound, Dutch agreed to bring him into the city. The doctor had given him a heavy dose of opium, leaving him in a cloud of haze and comfort. He had been unable to walk without the fear of falling over.

It was how he felt now as the sun broached the mountain peaks. Unconcious and high. He was unable to move his body.

The edge of his vision was black. Arthur couldn’t breathe.

“You was always special. I mean it.” Dutch’s baritone was the last thing Arthur could understand.

He wished he could tell Dutch that he forgave him, that he knew whatever had possessed him over the last few weeks wasn’t the man he had known, but he was disappearing. A hollow gasp escaped his throat as Arthur took his final breath.

It was as the world faded to black and Dutch’s voice grew fuzzier, the last words he would ever process drifted into his mind.

“You did good, Arthur.”


End file.
